The Convenient Cowboy (8 page)

“Is he coming to get me?”

Her throat closed with remembered fears, but she sucked it up and answered, “He’s in Texas. Here.” She held out the phone and was proud that she wasn’t trembling. Spence could deal with this, she assured herself. He was the dad. That was his job, not that she had much experience with parenthood. Calvin crept farther into the room and snatched the phone from the bed, turning his back to her.

“Daddy?” His thin voice wavered. A moment of silence, and his hunched shoulders relaxed. “I woke up, and that lady wasn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” More silence. “Not
her
,” he said with a quick glance over his shoulder.

Yeah, well, I feel the same way.
So he liked Rickie better than her.

“Daddy wants to talk to you.” Calvin stood as far away as he could, holding out the phone to her.

This would not be pleasant. “What?” she asked Spence.

“He’s scared. My God, he’s a little boy. Would it kill you to show him some empathy?”

It might
, that dark part of her mind said. The part that would protect her at any cost, that had protected her and her sisters from a mother probably not too different from Missy.

“Fine. Be a—” She heard him stop the word. “This isn’t what any of us want, but you’re the adult. It’s for just a few days.”

Calvin stood halfway to the door. He looked ready to run if he had to. Dear Lord. What was wrong with her? A little boy was terrified of her. She didn’t want to be chummy, but she didn’t need to scare the piss out of him. Was she more like her mother than she allowed herself to think?

“Olympia?”

“Sure. A few days. We can make it through a few days. He can help exercise the horses and clean out the barn.”

“Absolutely not,” Spence said at the same time that Calvin’s blue gaze locked on to hers, both hopeful and excited. “He’s still recovering from surgery. It’s much too dangerous for him—”

“He’s got to do something in the afternoons. He can’t sit in the house.”

She hadn’t noticed that the boy had crept closer, until he whispered, “Horses. You have horses.”

She nodded and had to ask Spence to repeat what he’d said. The hopeful note in Calvin’s tone made her feel...well, less like an evil hag and more like Glinda the Good Witch.

“He’s not to go in the barn. The hay could trigger breathing problems, and your animals are dangerous. Calvin has tested into the ninety-fifth percentile. He can entertain himself on his tablet, or take him to the library for books.”

“Library? He should be outdoors.” Calvin looked at her with resignation and just a hint of interest.

“Calvin missed a lot of instruction with his illness and surgeries. If he’d been with me, he’d be going to summer school to catch up. In fact, I’ll see if there are some nearby summer camps that he could attend.”

“Maybe he’d like the same rodeo camp that Jessie and I went to? I think they’re still in business.” Calvin’s skinny little body quivered with excitement, and then Olympia felt bad. There was no way Spence would let him go, and she knew it. She shouldn’t have used him to get back at his dad. God. She really was bad at this.

“Don’t tell him that. He is not going to a rodeo camp. Let me do research. Damn. I’ve got to go. I’m getting a text. I’ll call tomorrow morning with a solution.”

She tried to say something but he’d already hung up. “So...” Olympia wasn’t sure what else to say.

“I can see the horses tomorrow. Promise?”

She looked at his dusty blue eyes and just couldn’t say no. “Why not? No riding, though.” She saw him lose a little enthusiasm. “Time to get back in bed.” The boy immediately stiffened.

“Maybe I could watch TV?”

“It’s late. You need to be in bed.” She got up and started pushing him out the door. After he was asleep, she’d figure out how this was going to work.

Outside his bedroom, he stopped and whirled to her, “It’s really dark in there, and the closet door—” He sucked in a breath and went on, “It closed all by itself.”

Shi...sheets. The house was so out of plumb that the door often did that. She’d forgotten, but she could remember childhood well enough to know she’d have totally freaked out, too. “It’s just that the house isn’t built that well,” she said, and walked across the room to flip the light switch behind the dresser mirror. She heard him heave out another breath. He’d woken scared and then couldn’t even find the light. She didn’t look at him, because if she did, she might feel even worse. “See?” She opened up the closet. “Nothing in here.”

“Does it have a trapdoor?”

“A trapdoor?”

“Into the attic, because then somebody could get on the roof, kick in that little window up there and come down through the trapdoor.”

“No. There’s one in the kitchen closet.” His eyes got huge. Wrong answer. “But...I nailed it shut so no one can get in through there.”

“How many nails?”

“A dozen.” He looked skeptical. “Big nails.”

“Do you have a cat?”

“No. Why would you think I have a cat?”

“I don’t know. I was just checking.”

“No more stalling. Into bed,” Olympia said. Her sisters had had similar routines to try to stay up late.

Calvin hesitated and then slid under the covers, his eyes darting around the room. She saw him gaze longingly at a creature she’d never seen before and might have been a stuffed animal somewhere in its past.

“Do you want—?” She picked up the lump and gestured to him. He shook his head, but his eyes never left it. “I’ll just put it on the nightstand, so no one steps on it and breaks an ankle. Want me to leave the light on?”

“No,” he said, his voice shaking a little.

“Okay. I’ll leave a light on in the hall so you can find your way to the bathroom.” He relaxed a fraction. She turned off the light. At the bedroom door, she stopped and pulled it partway closed. “Is that enough light?”

“A little more closed.”

“Okay?”

“No, no, too much.”

She opened it farther. “Now?” It took nearly five minutes before he was satisfied by the amount of light coming in the room. Finally, she said, “Good night.”

She went back to the master bedroom. What was she going to do with a kid around here? She’d talk Rickie into watching him. Her sister had an easy way about her, and she hadn’t gotten a job yet. She could look out for the boy. That relaxed Olympia marginally, except Rickie hadn’t come home yet. Her sister was young and responsible, but still there was a lot of trouble she could get into. And then there were their genes. Olympia was thinking about Rickie meeting up with a fast-talking cowboy and couldn’t fall asleep for another hour.

Chapter Eight

Olympia knew she looked like...heck, which was just great because she had a potential boarder coming, and, of course, there was her stepson, who’d already told her that he didn’t eat cereal, toast or eggs for breakfast. He ate only waffles with blueberry syrup. When she’d told him that wasn’t happening, he’d raced back to his room and slammed the door. Then Rickie had come stumbling down the hall, given Olympia the evil eye and locked herself in the bathroom.

Olympia’s rest had been broken by either sexy dreams of Spence or the urge to pee—they were both annoying. Just as she’d fallen into a deep sleep, the alarm had gone off. Now she was trying to get by on her one cup of coffee. She had the barn to clean, potential clients to impress and a stepson underfoot. That surely needed more than one cup of caffeine, but the doctor had told her Peanut couldn’t take the stimulation.

* * *

T
HE
CLIENT
HAD
come and gone. No new horses to board. The ranch was too far away, and Muffin had decided today was the day that he’d act like a rabid animal. He hammered on the walls with his hooves and bugled out his displeasure at who knew what. She’d come back in the house to feel as if she was doing something useful and search sites for potential new boarders. She’d been at it for an hour or more when her stomach did a flip, telling her it was time for lunch—for her and for Calvin. Rickie could fend for herself. Although her sister may have left. She’d thought she’d heard a car, but she’d been so focused on the screen that she wasn’t sure.

“Calvin...Cal,” she called, walking into the living room.

She heard a faint noise coming from the master bedroom. What was the boy doing in there? Something he shouldn’t, probably. She tiptoed as quietly as her boots allowed on the tiled hallway and pushed the door open. Cal whipped around from where he sat in the middle of the bed. His stuffed animals, scattered over the messy sheets, looked innocent enough. But Cal’s red ears told her another story.

“Why are you in here?” she blurted.

“Just playing.” He dropped his head, and his shoulders nearly reached his ears.

“What’s wrong with your room?”

He shrugged.

It couldn’t still be the scary closet. It was daylight. “What do you want for lunch?”

He shrugged again, not looking at her and fiddling with the dirty, lumpy “animal” that he’d insisted last night wasn’t anything he wanted.

“I’ll call you when it’s ready.” He kept quiet and stared at the small collection of toys. She went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, but nothing appealed to her. She wanted fry bread with beans and cheese with salsa verde from Rita’s. Rickie’s car was gone, but Spence’s keys were here. He’d left the vehicle for her to use because her truck, which he’d taken to the airport, was a “death trap.” She trudged back to the bedroom, stopping when she heard Cal talking.

“Okay, troops. We have to stick together. Daddy won’t be home for a while, and we’ve got to stay with some lady. Daddy said we have to listen, but we don’t ’cause she’s not our mom. She’ll never be our mom. Mommy is at rehab. When she comes home, she and Daddy will get back together, and
she’ll
be out on her...her...derriere.”

Damn...dang it
, Olympia said to herself, tears in her eyes. She should feel insulted, but instead she felt bad for the little boy. He wanted what every other kid wanted, what she’d wanted so badly when she was little: a mom and dad living together and making a nice home. Well, she’d survived without it, and she was all right. He’d be fine, too. Plus, his mom was no prize. The jury was still out on his dad.

“Hey,” she said softly to Cal when it seemed as if there was a break in his speech.

He turned to her, his wispy hair flying and his eyes blazing with annoyance. “Stop snooping.”

“I wasn’t snooping.”
Liar.
“I just wanted to tell you that we’re going out for lunch at—”

“I’m not going.”

“You can’t stay here, and I’m hungry for fry bread.” Bribing her sisters with food had sometimes worked. Rickie had been willing to do almost anything for a Cansito snack cake with the nasty strawberry filling.

“There’s food here. I’ll eat that.”

“When we get back, you can come out to the barn and feed the horses their treats,” she wheedled. She really wanted fry bread, and she couldn’t leave Cal here on his own, could she? No. She could not. He was only seven.

“And I get to ride.”

He was his father’s son—trying to negotiate for more. “Treats today and tomorrow.”

“Just sitting on a horse, then.” His gaze locked on her, filled with hope.

How could she say no to that? “Okay. Five minutes.”

“And a walk around the corral.”

“Don’t push it, kid.”

He nodded, his smile breaking out with the dimple that was just like his father’s. She could see what a handsome man he’d become, despite his current scrawny paleness. Tears sprang to her eyes again. Dang hormones.

* * *

P
ASQUALE
LOOKED
AS
enthused waiting for his passenger as Olympia felt. She heard the scuff of pebbles that must be Cal. She’d sent him back in the house to change from shorts and a T-shirt into jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and a bike helmet that she’d seen in his closet. It wasn’t as good as a riding helmet, but it was better than nothing. He had to wear sneakers because he didn’t have boots. What boy who lived in Arizona didn’t have boots? His daddy had boots, even if they weren’t workingman’s boots. Olympia would need to get him a real helmet and boots. No. He wasn’t staying. No use in investing in those.

“What’s wrong with him?” Cal pointed at Pasquale, whose nearly closed eyes and cocked foot made it clear that he’d rather be napping. This rescue horse had
the
most laid-back attitude. It sort of matched his hide, neither brown nor gray but some color in between that always looked as if he’d just rolled in dirt. Although rolling in dirt would probably be too much work for Pasquale. She’d been told that he might be part sloth when she’d agreed to foster him.

“Pasquale’s into energy conservation.” She pulled on the cinch. The gelding opened his eyes a smidgen more and tried to inflate his lungs so she wouldn’t be able to get the cinch as tight as she needed to hold the saddle securely in place. A trick horses learned early on. “No way,” she said, pulling harder on the strap, lifting her knee and pushing it against his side. That was enough to remind the horse. He sighed heavily, and she made a final adjustment. “You ready?”

The boy nodded but didn’t move. “He’s pretty big.”

“Not that big.” Pasquale wasn’t a pony, but most people wouldn’t consider him horse-size, either. “Put your foot in here,” Olympia said, making a cradle for his foot to give him the boost that he’d need to get in the saddle. No foot landed in her hands. She looked at the boy through her eyelashes. He trembled a little, his face paler than usual. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You promised.”

“It’s up to you, but if you’re scared—”

“I’m not scared.”

Olympia stood. A fine tremor ran through Cal. The kid was obviously afraid and didn’t want to let her know. She ached as she watched him fight his fear. When Olympia visited Hope’s Ride, what had Jessie said to the kids in her program if they worried about getting on a horse? “Pasquale knows when I put the saddle on him that it’s time for a rider to get on his back. It’s his very favorite thing, and he won’t do anything to knock you off because he wants to be able to have you sit on him again.”

“Are you fibbing?”

“Pasquale, am I fibbing?” she asked the horse, pulling just a little on his reins. He naturally pulled his head up and down against the tension.

Cal smiled, showing off the familiar dimple. She bent over, ignoring that little tug the similarity to his father gave her. “Put your foot here,” she said, making her hands once again into a cradle. She easily boosted him up. They stood in the corral, Cal stiff as a board as Pasquale went back to dozing. What could happen if she led Cal around? It’d make him happy, and Pasquale could use the exercise. The horse’s ears swiveled as she tugged lightly on the halter. He snuffled the air and went into his plodding walk.

“I’m riding,” Cal said, and the smile did not leave his face for the next twenty minutes as she led the horse around the corral.

“Okay. Now you take him around.” His eyes got big as his skinny little fingers tightened on the reins. “You’ll do fine.” She patted Cal’s leg, gentling him like she would a skittish horse. “I will be right here.” She saw him firm his boyishly soft chin.

The horse snorted, and Cal’s body tensed. “He just got dust in his nose. He’s fine. Remember, he likes to have a rider on his back. He won’t do anything that will mean he can’t have you ride him again.”

She stood in the center of the small corral. If she had to race to help him, she could. He didn’t have much form, sitting stiffly and not rocking with the motion of the horse, but his genuine grin made her feel good. He might not have the problems that the kids in Jessie’s therapeutic-riding program had, but Olympia’d bet that he’d get similar benefits from working with the horses. She’d treat him like a student, not her stepson. Supportive but with a little distance. She could do that.

“I want to go faster. How do I make him go faster?” Cal’s little boy voice piped up and over the corral. She caught the frantic drumming of his heels against Pasquale’s side. The horse threw his head in annoyance and sped up a little, making Cal bounce. She hurried to him, grabbing the horse’s head.

“You’re not ready yet. You need to practice the walk first, then you can go faster.”

“I want to go now.”

“No. Pasquale’s tired.” She tugged again on the rein, and the horse nodded his head. She saw the disappointment on Cal’s face, but he didn’t protest. After she got him down and got him to help her care for the horse, he stayed in the barn, asking questions and fetching things she needed.

Olympia looked over at Cal’s earnest face as he watched her working the other horses using a longe line—the long rein that allowed her to stand in the middle of the corral while the horses went through their paces in a circle around her. The doctor had nixed riding at her first appointment, so this was the only way for her to exercise the animals—including the cranky Muffin.

By the time supper rolled around, both Olympia and Cal were tired. She put together sandwiches so they could eat in front of the TV. Meanwhile, Rickie, who had a better social life than one of those teen stars on TMZ, was out again.

Olympia woke with Cal leaning against her on the couch; some rodeo rerun was on the TV. She needed to pee badly...as usual. Cal had his thumb in his mouth. Her throat tightened at the innocence of him, the loveliness of the promise of his future in the miniature face. She tried to pick him up, but though small for his age, she couldn’t do it. Instead, she got him to his feet, letting him lean heavily on her, his warm weight anchoring her to the world in the middle of the night. It made the growing Peanut inside her seem less like an alien and more like a miracle.

She shook her head as she got him under the covers. She went to her own room, put on Spence’s shirt and crawled into bed, reminding herself that the miracle would be someone else’s—Spence’s and the woman he married for real. He was the kind of man meant to have a wife and family.

She rolled onto her side, pulling up her knees to soothe the ache in her back. How was she going to make it through months more of the sickness—which still struck at odd times—and the backaches? She’d do it, just like she’d made sure her sisters got fed even when she had to use a stool to cook on the stove. You did what it took to survive.

* * *

S
PENCE
HAD
BEEN
sitting in his Texas hotel for hours, plowing through material so he could get home sooner rather than later. He’d already stayed three more days than he’d anticipated. His phone started vibrating on the table serving as his desk. Olympia. He’d already spoken with Calvin. Now Olympia was calling? He’d let voice mail get it. The phone stopped vibrating. He pushed around the food on his plate. After a moment, the phone vibrated again.

“Yes,” he barked.

“I, um, I wanted to make sure that Cal called you.”

“Hours ago.”

“Good.”

“Did you want something else? I’ve still got work to get done.”

“No. Well...yes.”

Silence. Then she said, “I’m sorry, but it’s not working out.”

His lungs stopped moving. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve tried. I mean really tried, but...I don’t know what to say... How to...”

Spence heard tears as her voice trailed off. What the...? Was she going to break the agreement? Walk out on him? On Calvin? A wall of fear and desolation crashed down on him. “We can talk when I get home. This isn’t something that we can settle on the phone. I won’t be here much longer.”

“Da...dang hormones,” Olympia sniffled. “I just can’t...” Her words melted into a wet-sounding stream of nonsense.

“Don’t do anything until I get there.” A new fear lodged in his throat. What if she followed through on her threat to run away? His brain went into overdrive. Could he get a flight from Texas and talk some sense into her before his bosses and client realized that he was gone?

“What? Why are you going to come home?” she asked her voice sharper.

“To stop you.”

“Stop me? From what? I’m not going to kill Jessie.” That sounded like
his
Olympia, then her voice quavered. “She made her sister—Lavonda—come and help me because she couldn’t. Now Lavonda’s taking over. Muffin listens to her, even if she doesn’t have a muffin...” Olympia’s voice broke again. “I know it’s stupid, but she left ranching and I’m the one who is making a career of it and she’s better at this than me and it’s not fair that—”

“You’re jealous of Lavonda?” he asked, relief making him giddy as blood rushed to his head from where it had hardened into a cold lump in his throat.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing.” At that moment, his brain short-circuited and a loud bark of laughter burst from him.